67 pages • 2 hours read
Taylor Jenkins ReidA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Javier calls Carrie his “Achilles” from a young age. She learns early about the famous warrior, the “Greatest of the Greeks” (29), and for her, this idea symbolizes her invincibility and the inevitability of her greatness. The first reference to Achilles comes when Javier tells Carrie that “Achilles was a great warrior because it was his destiny to become one” (15). Teaching Carrie this and comparing her story to Achilles’s gives Carrie the impression that she is meant to become larger than life. She strives to achieve greatness, believing so deeply in this “destiny” that it dominates her life. It leads her to fear failure, since she focuses so much on winning that she loses herself along the way. If she cannot become Javier’s Achilles, then she will have failed—not just as a tennis player, but as a person.
However, in Greek legends, Achilles does lose. Achilles is famous for his single point of weakness: his heel. Most myths claim that Achilles died when Paris of Troy shot him in the heel with an arrow. Neither Carrie nor Javier bring attention to this aspect of the Achilles tales. Javier simply calls Carrie his “Achilles,” and Carrie focuses on Achilles’s strength and heroism. Even Nicki, who references Javier’s nickname for Carrie late in the book, does not bring it up. Because Javier focuses on Achilles’s strength, Carrie believes she cannot have any weaknesses. This in turn leads to her overall fear of loss. The need to win defines her life so completely that she does not acknowledge the weakness in the great hero she is supposedly destined to embody.
This image of invincibility—coupled with Carrie’s struggles with self-doubt—recurs throughout the novel. When Carrie and Gwen enter Wimbledon, Gwen recites a piece of “If—” by Rudyard Kipling: “If you can make one heap of all your winnings / And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, / And lose, and start again at your beginnings / And never breathe a word about your loss” (272). Carrie realizes that Gwen believes that she is unafraid of losing, when really loss is Carrie’s deepest fear. Carrie struggles with this contradiction of how she is seen versus who she truly is. On the one hand, it benefits her; she is viewed as cool and collected, which gives her an edge and shapes her public image. On the other, Carrie’s fear and self-doubt bog her down in private. In her mind, heroes like Achilles do not show fear, and they do not lose, so neither can she—despite this belief being based in untruths. By the end of the novel, Carrie overcomes her fear and her image of a heroic destiny. She recognizes that she is still Javier’s Achilles, even if she is no longer seen as the best.
Achilles becomes symbolic of her relationship with her father. When she defeats Stepanova, Carrie feels no sense of triumph because Javier is no longer at her side. She narrates: “I was waiting for it to feel the way I’d always imagined it would. For someone to hug me and tell me I had vanquished the enemy like the Greeks against Troy…” (63). But Javier is the one who saw her as Achilles, and without him, there is no one to truly affirm her victory. This is partly why she asks Javier to coach her for her comeback.
Carrie knows what it means to play good tennis. She knows how to analyze her skill and her playing, even if she is hesitant to admit that her game has changed as she has gotten older. Throughout the novel, Carrie describes a “hum” she feels. It first appears when she plays Mary-Louise Bryant, and she thinks, “I had her. I could feel the tingle in the top of my head and down my back. I could feel the space in between my joints, the fluidity of my muscles. I felt a hum in bones” (32). Carrie also feels this hum at the 1995 Australia Open: “When I wake up in the morning, I feel a hum in my bones that I have not felt in years” (131). It signifies her deep, almost instinctive connection to the game, much like the way a dancer connects with the rhythm of a song. The hum also symbolizes her confidence; when she feels it, Carrie believes that she will carry the day. It always appears when victory is near.
However, this shifts at the end of the novel. As Carrie plays Nicki in the championship round of the US Open, she begins to realize that Nicki may win. Yet the hum, which had previously only accompanied Carrie’s victories, persists. Even as she loses to Nicki, Carrie “still feel[s] that hum. That hum in [her] bones. That sense of weightlessness and groundedness. That sense that the day is [hers]” (362). Finally, Carrie finds joy in the game, not just the victory. This change marks a distinct shift in her character development, as she is able to let go of her fear of loss and move forward with her life in peace.
The novel is interspersed with transcripts from radio and TV shows as well as news and magazine articles. This serves two functions. The first is its most basic: It provides an opportunity to move along the narrative, documenting Carrie’s progress through a tournament while skipping a round or two of Carrie’s internal perspective. The second function is much more symbolic: It illustrates the context of Carrie’s world. This is most explicitly seen in The Mark Hadley Show where Gloria Jones and Briggs Lakin cohost with the program’s titular commentator. Lakin frequently cuts off Jones and undermines her expertise as a former tennis professional. It adds objective context to the theme of The Acceptable Standards of Women’s Behavior, showcasing the treatment of women in tennis from outside of Carrie’s limited perspective. The news media also functions to demonstrate that Carrie’s perspective on the criticism she faces isn’t unfounded; it is repeatedly shown how men often speak over women, judge their behaviors, and discredit their accomplishments. In a satisfying turn of events, Lakin is eventually forced to admit that he was wrong in betting against Carrie.
Another example is apparent in a letter to the editor from Vivant Magazine. A woman writes a piece called “Why I’m Grateful for Carrie Soto” (113). In it, she points out that “[s]ome men’s childhoods are permitted to last forever, but women are so often reminded that there is work to be done” (113). Carrie’s comeback alone, regardless of her attitude and behavior, already defies the standard expectations for women in tennis simply because she is an older player. Women are often expected to sacrifice their dreams and careers in favor of starting families—Carrie, in contrast, has chosen to return to sports and chase her dreams. This is the reason that many women begin to root for her, and it is arguably one of Carrie’s “greatest” qualities.
By Taylor Jenkins Reid